✓ | 𝗔𝗣𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗘 · ͟͟͞͞➳ spencer reid

CHAPTER 48 ━━━

# ! | CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- she's tired of being out of
commission

━━━ A WEEK AND A HALF
following the boxing case, Meryl is on medical leave due to a very insistent Hotch who decided that her professional opinion is "bogus" where her own health is concerned.

That week was spent mostly at Spencer's house, using the spare key so she could have food ready for him when he got home. He joked that food is her love language, which is might as well be.  The last two days, however, the team had been on a case and by the sound of it, it was a rough one.

"We're about to take off right now, Mer," Spencer tells, his voice raspy from sleep as it crackled over the line.

On the other end of the call, Meryl preheats the oven - his oven, one that looked like it hadn't been used in centuries before Meryl got her hands on it - and hums an affirmative. "See you then, love. I miss you."

"Miss you more," Spencer replies, begrudgingly pulling the phone away from his ear and ending the call. JJ offers him a bleary grin and snuggles deeper into Emily's embrace. "How's our girlfriend?" she asks.

It'd become an onrunning joke between the team over the last week. She'd sent cupcakes with Spencer on Monday, cappuccino cookies on Tuesday, and had called each of the seven members at least once a day on the Wednesday and Thursday they've been working the case. Penelope had said to Spencer, "Nah baby, that's our girlfriend," when he had asked about her, and now it was a thing.

The disheveled doctor smiles softly in reply. "She's good. Sounds exhausted, though."

Emily cracks an eye open. "Is she doing that thing where her accent gets all slurred together?"

Spencer nods. Her voice, that accent, was one of his favorite things about her. "Sure was. She can come back in on Monday. Thanks for making her stay home, Hotch. We know she wouldn't take it herself and she didn't want to listen to me," he says genuinely, turning to the unit chief who has taken residence on the sofa. Aaron nods and then smiles, just barely.

"Arguments at your place have gotta be a blast, huh?" Rossi comments from next to Hotch, earning a smirk from Morgan, who sits next to Reid and takes his headphones off.

"Statistically speaking, the density of sucrose is one and a half grams per centimeter cubed," JJ teases, to which Emily replies, "Just hand me the bloody sugar, Reid!" in an accent that is very, very far from Italian.

"Pack it up, Gustov," Morgan says through bouts of laughter. Spencer shakes his head and leans back into his seat. "One point five nine."

Emily's laughter quiets. "Hmm?"

"The density of table sugar. One point five nine grams per centimeter cubed."

Rossi throws a crumpled napkin at him with a smile as a peaceful silence settles over the cabin. Spencer closes his eyes and thinks about Meryl. They'd settled back into their routine since his outburst, and now it was just past 3 a.m on Friday, April 6th.

This case, which involved a fifty year old man killing accomplished homosexual women in their twenties, had really irked Spencer while also helping him realize how much he missed his girl. He had tried desperately to play nurse in the few days before the case but Meryl only went as far as to ask for help changing the bandage between her shoulder blades in the few days it was needed. She'd healed up well, all her bruising was gone, but she still had a smattering of scars on her back.